Last year was tragic. My newly-wed brother asked me of all people to run and fetch his delightful little order of a dozen beautiful long-stemmed red roses along with a container of plump, hand-dipped chocolate covered strawberries and place them in their house so that when his newly-wed wife would come home later that day, she would find them sitting on their newly-wed coffee table.
How romantic!
Yes, my doofus little bother asked his older, lonely, and very single sister to run his Valentine's Day errands for him. SHIT!
I walked into Kroger and the place was like a Ringling Brothers production. The floral department was flooded with frantic desperate men, looking to spend their entire savings on marked-up flowers and candy. And of course, they were all shopping at the last possible minute. Typical. All I wanted to do was grab the lovely-dovey crap and get the hell out of there.
Well, that wasn't at all possible. I waited in line for what seemed like an eternity. By the time I finally made my way back to the deli to pick up the stupid strawberries, I was balling my eyes out, and was barely able to muster up the words: I have a pick-up order for Barno. The lady looked at me like I was a two-headed homeless girl begging for spare change. She finally found the order, I ran out of that horrid place as fast as I could, still weeping like an infant.
I never want to re-live that moment ever, ever again.
So, this Valentine’s Day, my heart goes out to anyone that has ever struggled to get through this ridiculously dumb day. Happy Freakin’ V-Day, people.
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